


RED

by LostInTheThicket



Series: People Like Us: The Making Of [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Civil War Talk, Discrimination, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Mild Gore, Original Character Bashing, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 09:46:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17423549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostInTheThicket/pseuds/LostInTheThicket
Summary: Shortly after his arrival back in Earth-6, Mickey learned about the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers' demise. After recalling the trials and tribulations and realizing it meant nothing, he drinks to avoid his depression and to curb his anger.Unfortunately, after turning a petty crime into a bloodbath, Tony and Peter try to help Mickey cope...and avoid an even bigger punishment for them all.





	RED

**Author's Note:**

> This is also, perhaps, my darkest fic yet. There will be blood, heavy language, and a bit of gore. Some OC-bashing, too. If this isn't your cup of tea, I get it. I'm working through Mickey's issues in some new ways here. Otherwise, lemme know what you think.
> 
> Also, this is inspired by the track _The City_. Again, might not be your cup of tea, but I thought Kendrick's emotion in the hook represents Mickey's anger.

_Red is a very emotionally and intense colour. It enhances human metabolism, increases respiration rate, and raises blood pressure._

* * *

Alone and groggy in the living room, Mickey sits on his couch, staring at the T.V. screen. It’s off and it’s cold. The only image it has is his own face staring back at him. A Moscato wine bottle – two-thirds empty – stands tall on the table with pieces of chewed brie, half-eaten crackers, and dry salami on the side.

He sees the heavy bags under his eyes, blinking as he basks in his own depression and emotional putrescence. He feels himself sinking ever-so-slowly in the briny depths of his mind, recalling his life and coping with his current state.

Alone in the living room, Mickey begins to think.

He thinks about his failures in the world through the Divide, barely surviving against Gill and the Secret Society. He thinks about the demise of a dream through the machinations of HYDRA and Zemo; the end of seeking his redemption. He thinks about being helpless to prevent any of it and his tirade at Tony, shaking his head as he remembers his screaming…

And finally, he thinks about his stillborn sister R.J., reluctant to forget about her death and the sadness that came with it. Sitting all alone, Mickey sighs as he feels his struggle to get better. He blinks and sniffles, wiping a tear from his face.

Suddenly, a voice emerges from inside his head, but it isn’t his own thoughts reaching out to him. Its’ echo is feminine, soft, and friendly. It’s the familiar voice of one-half of his demonic life-partner Sidechain.

**_Do you want to talk, Michaël? I can tell you’re not alright._ **

Unenthusiastic about waking up his soon-to-be adopted sister Katherine, Mickey starts to stumble out of the house with his special, souped-up headphones. Before he leaves, he finishes his bottle of Moscato wine with an unceremonious thud before stepping through the door.

_No, Sidechain. And I’m not. I’m pretty fuckin’ far from okay._

**_You’re inebriated, but you’re blocking your thoughts from me. What’s the matter? Let me help--_**

_Don’t w-worry, I—_

**_You seem to forget who you’re speaking to. We made a promise, remember? My strength is your strength, your pain is my pain. That was our vow, was it not?_ **

Mickey cranes his head to stare at the sky, falling with a thud on the stairs of his apartment. The night sky is filled with clouds as the cold New York air whips across his face, allowing the tears to cool his skin.

_The shit that I went through? It's for nothin', man. …I just…wanted people to be proud of me here. I don't wanna feel useless. I—_

**_But people are proud of you, Michaël. Melissa, Erika, Anthony…_ **

_Stark? Proud?_  Mickey scoffs, watching some spit fly out as he quickly wipes his mouth clean.  _C’mon._

**_It’s true! …And I am proud of you._ **

Suddenly, another voice emerges; this one is booming, resonant and forceful. It's the voice of his other, less-than-better half Soundclash - now known as Grand Duke Agares – voicing their opinion. 

 ** _Likewise. I mean, look, you can’t please everybody_** , they echo in Mickey's mind. ** _Those are facts. …But, I know what you went through and the week that you’re havin’ right now. Some of that shit's my fault._**

 _Some, Duke?_ Mickey shakes his head with a laugh.

**_Some! But this shit? It ain't good for anyone, Boss._ **

Mickey walks down the stairs and takes his time to lurch forward through the neighbourhood. He holds onto streetlights as he wipes his face. “It’s all stupid,” he says in an incoherent tone, too drunk to keep his thoughts to himself.

Shuffling his feet along the concrete, the lights whirl past Mickey’s eyes, making Queens look like a giant rave. Too bright to see, Mickey shields his face. In his snow globe of a mind, he looks for a place to get away; to break free from society’s scornful gaze. But unlike his bedroom, the comfort of an alley overrides an awkward talk from Katherine. He brushes past people on the street as they react with various emotions, staring at him in general disbelief.

Sidechain suddenly speaks in an unusually worried tone. **_I understand this might sound hypocritical given what I am, but this self-destructive mindset isn’t like you, Michaël._**

Mickey chuckles scornfully. "Bullfuckinshit, it isn't."

 ** _Yeah, I gotta side with the Duchess on this one,_** Dukesays. ** _Alright, Boss, time ta—_**

“No,” Mickey utters. Finding an alley with very little light, he smiles as he stands against the wall before falling on his ass with a hard thud. “No possession t-today!”

Silence. It lingers as Duke sounds confused. _**No?**_

Sidechain scoffs. **_And why not?_**

“I don’t want the _both_ of you to ruin this for me,” Mickey slurs in Spanish. Back in the day, it was easier to voice his anger in Spanish, dealing with indignation as a child. Growing up, he was the first to defend himself – and others – from being bullied…

But as Mickey stares into the distance, he sighs, unable – and incapable – of defending anyone from the ultimate bully: life. Not even - and especially not - himself.

Duke chuckles, slightly irritated at Mickey’s drunken and reserved state. ** _After the shit week that you had, we’re gonna ‘ruin’ this. We still got shit to—_**

“No, we don’t. ‘Member? S.H.I.E.L.D.’s frickin’ gone,” Mickey mumbles.

**_You seem to forget, Michaël, that Erika told you it was still alive._ **

“Oh, with that Mace guy and t-that Inhuman hidin’ in the shadows? Daisy?” Mickey frowns. “Ain’t the same. Those X-Dorks are too s-s-secretive, too.”

Too drunk to notice people stopping to look at him, Mickey puts on his headphones. He plays a song from a genre he rarely listens to…

**(Now Playing: The City by The Game ft. Kendrick Lamar)**

 

 Upon recognizing the song, Duke becomes remarkably concerned. **_Boss? Hey, listen. I know that song, alright? I haven’t heard that since…_**

“Since...what?”

**_Since the Raft. Whenever you were upset in there, you always played that song. I still remember your reckless ass fighting with the other inmates because they heard that a lot._ **

Sidechain starts to worry more for her host. **_Mad? Um, how mad?_**

It’s at that time Mickey hears a commotion at the end of the alley. He sees people running to the left as he punches the ground next to him.

“Can’t crime just take a…take a fuckin’ break?!” Mickey says, spitting on the ground. "I'msickofthisshit!"

He leaves as, unbeknownst to him, a sizeable hole is created from the force of the impact. Suddenly, an unseen force stops him. He turns to look at a window as his irises flash between blue and white.

Sidechain says, **_I mustn’t let you do anything stupid. You need to stop._**  Mickey generates an unbelievable amount of willpower to break free from her magic. She gasps as Duke sighs.

**_Yeah, he does that sometimes, Duchess. Boss, I—_ **

"Shut...Duchess?" Mickey holds onto the wall. He stares, watching his world spin. "Oh, we're gonna talk about that later."

Mickey walks to the source of the uproar as he pushes past everyone running in the opposite direction. He stops to see a trio of armed muggers leaving a Burger King with wads of money…and fearsome-looking guns. He presses one of the sides of his headphones as his mask emerges, emitting a neon blue glow.

One of the robbers turns to Mickey as he points. “Yo, guys, look. Soundclash!”

They notice Mickey stumble and stagger, moving in awkward angles as he wipes some dry spittle from his face. He hears the robbers point their guns towards him, laughing with unbridled disrespect. The robbers aim their guns at Mickey as they move closer.

The same robber grins. “The big, bad ex-con wants to fight us when he’s drunk, huh?” His breath is as foul as Mickey’s. "Too scared to face us without your gang makeup?"

Mickey stops as he stands still. "Just drop your weapons and stop fuckin' robbing people, o-okay? Stop. Just stop."

Another of the thieves joins into the conversation, his voice deep and resonant with a cackle. “Either he’s stupid enough to be brave or brave enough to be stupid.” He smacks Mickey’s head as the latter tanks it, staring at the robber’s direction. "At least Spider-Man might give us some problems!"

Suddenly, Mickey hears a wry laugh and a deep Brooklyn accent. “Get the fuck out of here, Villanueva." The leader of the small gang breaks Mickey's gaze as he strides to face him. "You and your crew? People like your kind's pretty crafty and shady, I gotta admit..."

Mickey turns to the leader, his expression laced with seething anger at the latter's backhanded insult.

"...But you’re broken relics. We’re the future," the leader continues, brandishing an assault rifle in Mickey’s face as his cohorts laugh. “Judas Bullets, bitch. So unless you want one in your head, leave!" Mickey stays, lowering his head. "Are your ears dirty, too, bozo? Don't even—”

Swiftly and without warning, the leader is sent flying, hurled into the sign's steel post. Blood and spit escape his mouth with a pained groan. His weapon gets dropped as he slumps to the ground. His chest is discoloured from Mickey’s _La Gota_ as people stop and turn, gasping from the sudden violence. The other two stop and turn around as they step back, weapons drawn.

And then, Mickey speaks. His cadence is slow, reserved, and slurred. “There’s only… _one_ person that gets to call me that. So, get r-ready, _pendejos_ …” With a garbled chuckle, he channels his sonic powers, immediately wielding his _Cuchillos Sonoras_ – his Sonic Knives. He raises his head to stare at the robbers with fury in his eyes, ready to quell his anger the hard way...

“I’d tell you to run, but I’m too drunk...and  _way_ too mad to give a shit about you anymore.”

**Author's Note:**

> Much like the Spider-centric _Caught in Your Web_ , RED will be a supplementary two-shot to my main fic _People Like Us_.
> 
> The events in RED will tie into People Like Us and give y'all a reason behind some of what happens there. Feedback will be welcomed. <3


End file.
